Mistress Swann
by Jaffa Fairy
Summary: Elizabeth's mother returns to recliam her daughter. We finally find out where Elizabeth gets her firey temper from, but why was Mistress Swann left behind in England all those years ago?
1. Prologue

**So there was this HUGE A/N at the beginning off this, but go the feeling it was putting people off, so I shall simply say – read, enjoy and (please, maybe?) review.**

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"Will, shush!" I giggled, picking dried ivy out of my hair. "They'll hear us!"

"And but love me, let them find me here! My life were better ended by their hate than prolonged wanting of thy love." He declared dramatically, I dissolved into titters once more. The moon was full, the sky was clear, the grass thick and damp with dew, I felt deliciously, gloriously alive.

"I _knew_ it was a bad idea for father to send you to that dame school!"

Wearing the breeches and shirt I had stolen from our groom's boy, and blissfully free of stays, it was easy to climb up and down the thick ivy that covered out house. I could clamber up the branches, hide the clothes, slip into bed and awake in the morning, slightly tired mayhap, but my moonlight trysts with my fiancé still undiscovered.

I pressed a quick kiss on Will's lips, and in a few moments was tumbling over the balcony.

"Will, Will!" I hissed as loudly as I dared to the rapidly disappearing figure. It turned, and in the dim light I caught a glimpse of the face I had known and loved since girlhood. "Parting, is such sweet sorrow, that I shall say goodnight till it be morrow!"

"Sleep dwell upon thine eyes, peace in thy breast." Was the faint reply, before the dark figure exited through the shadowy orchard gate.

I turned away from the balcony, a smile playing about my lips. I did not notice the candle, grown short; with a weak light competing against the bright young moon. The voice then, when it came, was an utter shock, and I jumped nearly out of my skin.

"Elizabeth."


	2. Lady Capulet enters stage right

"Father." I knew his voice at once, and as my eyes adjusted to the dim light I could see him sitting tired and dejected on the edge of my bed. He held his wig in his hands, looking like a plucked peacock without it.

"Father, I can explain, please…"

"Elizabeth." He repeated, holding a hand up as he spoke – sounding as tired as he looked. "we'll speak of this later. It's another matter I came to speak with you about." I sat down next to him, enclosing his worn hands in mine. What could it be, to upset him so much?"

"Your mother's here."

"_What_? How, where?" I began all my questions all at once, so that they choked me into silence.

"She's asleep now, but in the morning she wants to see you."

"Why?" I finally managed to spit out.

"Just," he sighed. "Wait until morning. Get some sleep." He gave my hands a squeeze, the made to leave, replacing his wig as he did so.

"Goodnight father." I muttered lost in my thoughts.

"Goodnight. And, Elizabeth," He stood in the doorway, silhouetted by the candle he held. "I wouldn't wear that ensemble when you greet your mother." He smiled his precious soft smile, his crumbled features raised in shrewd amusement, and then he was gone.

The next morning dawned slow and misty after the cool night. I was up early, or perhaps I should say I was up late, as no sweeter rest was mine. All night I paced, ethereal and wakeful, unable to settle my thoughts. I had not seen my mother since my father and I made the crossing to Jamaica nearly nine years ago. The tale, when indeed I was told anything, was that the warm climates were detrimental to my mother's health, and she remained in Suffolk, managing my father's English estate.

As I got older, I gave this story the attention it had missed in my youth, but if I found fault with it, it was not for long. Ginny, my nursemaid had given me all the mothering I needed both in England and Port Royal, and my blood mother was not missed.

The whole house seemed as wakeful and unsettled as me, servants scuttled back and forth with unaccustomed haste, plates were dropped and windows rattled. Mrytle hands faltered with my stays, and it was three attempts before she had pulled it close enough to let my best dress be fastened.

However, two hours after daybreak found me at the entrance to our guest parlour, trying to gather my courage to knock and enter. Realising the power needed to do the former would render me helpless to do the latter, I took a swift breath and strode in, head held up.

"Good morrow, daughter." The woman who sat on the chaise lounge did not even look up as I entered, but continued to add three sugars to one of our finest bone china cups. Her figure was tall and strong, and something about the line of her back and set of her figure on the lounge as she stirred the tea suggested she was laced tightly into a corset. "Will you sit and take some tea?"

I took a seat in the other chaise lounge, set opposite her across a low table. I accepted the cup she offered me, and managed to take a deep sip and place the saucer carefully on the edge of the table before meeting my mother's eyes.

I started as my own face stared back at me.

The features were somewhat more coarsely set, perhaps, and the skin thinner and lighter; drawn delicately over the high cheekbones, creasing into fine lines about the mouth and eyes. Not a quite mirror then, but maybe a mirror held up to show my future.

"Now, I see no need not to be perfectly frank." She began, her voice had a rural tang behind the high accent. "I've heard much of your progress since you left me."

Had she? I had heard none of hers, she had the advantage of me and despite myself I gave a nervous laugh.

"Most of it good, I hope?" The future-mirror eyes narrowed slightly.

"Most of it. However, recently I have had some news which has upset me greatly."

"Yes?" I prompted, forcing my voice to stay light, my tone innocent.

"Darling girl. No child of mine can possibly marry a blacksmith." She spoke quietly and evenly, her familiar face holding it's composure as her voice spoke those foreign words.

I swallowed down the lump in my throat, and pushed out another laugh.

"Oh, but you haven't met Will yet." I sourly noticed the wince at his name. "Let me invite him to tea this afternoon." I made to, anything to be rid of my own face holding my gaze so coolly. "I'm so glad you thought to visit and be introduced to him.

"Elizabeth, my child, you misunderstand. I've come to take you home with me."

I don't remember the cup hitting the wall behind my mother, don't know how I knocked over the table, didn't even notice I was shouting until her voice sounded so quiet against my own.

"I knew living in this wilderness would be bad for my daughter, but I had no idea what a savage you had become." She held placed her cup carefully a leg of the overturned table. "But, as any Englishman can tell you, civilisation always triumphs over savages."


End file.
